A/N: Your reviews are all so yummy! I'm very glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. If I haven't properly thank you (which I always try to do), then please, accept this "THANK YOU!" I love you all.
Vance pushed away from the table, eyes bleary in exhaustion and alcohol. They'd finished the bottle over the course of the hour, and Bobby had produced yet another when Tony joined them. With numbed senses, the burden of what they were under seemed less, and they welcomed the facade, reveling in the brief relief it allowed them. They'd worry in the morning. There was enough on everyone's plate.
"Goin' somewhere, Leon?" Gibbs asked, blinking slowly up at the director.
"Yeah," he replied, stretching, "before I drink myself too far under the table." He adjusted his jacket absently. "Gonna check the progress of the...clean up. No doubt there'll be mayhem at the office. Gotta catch it before it gets too far out of hand."
"You okay to drive?"
"Haven't had as much as you, Gibbs." He took the keys from the edge of the table, grateful that Gibbs had taken an issued sedan when they'd left NCIS headquarters. "Rest up. We've got..." His sentence disappeared into a startled cry as the missing angel, Zerachiel, appeared behind Tony, disheveled and swaying dangerously. "McGee?"
Tony scrambled quickly to his feet, pulling the chair back for the angel to sink into. He nodded thankfully, leaning back into the firm support of the back of the chair.
"Castiel?" he managed, looking over at Dean, who had half-risen from his chair.
"Alive," he answered. "What the hell happened to you? Do you know how worried we've been?"
"Got separated from Castiel after we left the shelter. We were being chased, so we split up. I don't know how Castiel got away so fast. I just managed to get free." He took a deep breath, glancing around the room. His eyes came to land on Director Vance, and he nodded in greeting. "No, director, not McGee."
Vance sank back down in his own chair, blinking slowly at the image of the agent in front of him. "Not McGee?"
"Angel," Tony interjected. "Namely one Zerachiel." He cast a lopsided grin at the angel, rocking back on his chair legs.
"Angel," Vance repeated weakly, passing his hand over his eyes. He shook his head, pushing himself to his feet again. Carefully, he schooled his face into a mask of indifference and pocketed his keys. "I have a job to do and right now, I think that's where I need to be. I'll be back later...when I've had a chance to process some of this." He turned on his heel and walked purposefully from the house, the door swinging shut behind him.
Those left inside watched him go before turning back to Zerachiel, waiting for him to speak.
"I need some time to recover. Has Castiel said anything? Do we have a plan?"
"Nothing solid yet. He's in worse shape than you," Dean replied.
The angel nodded and unsteadily found his feet. "I have to rest. Please...have Castiel find me when he wakes." Forcing himself to focus, he moved from the room and down the hallway to the room that McGee had occupied.
Those in the kitchen resumed their seats slowly after hearing the door click closed. Dean scowled deeply at his coffee mug, his mind now moving from worry for his brother to worry for the task in front of them. They'd all almost been killed ridding the shelter of Valkyries and stopping the last of the sacrifices. Now, they were facing walking into Valhalla to finish the job, where there would undoubtedly be endless numbers of Valkyrie to face, and he and Sam were the prime targets. With the condition that Zerachiel and Castiel had found themselves in after the shelter, he couldn't help but feel that their chances had gone from slim to none.
"If there's one thing I've learned in all my years of doin' this job...it's that it don't get easier," Bobby spoke roughly, breaking the silence as if he were reading Dean's mind. "Hunters, agents...ain't none of us guaranteed another day when we step out on a job."
"I'll drink to that," Gibbs said, raising his mug.
"Hell, I spend most of my time just waitin'...wonderin' when the luck's gonna run out. Done lost everything in my life that's mattered, 'cept for the boys."
"Sounds rough," Tony offered.
"Had our fair share too," Gibbs added. "Shannon and Kelly, Jenny, Kate...McGee, more than likely..."
"My mom, my dad, my brother, myself," Dean continued quietly. He looked up from his mug, seeing that all eyes had settled on him. "My grandparents, Lisa and Ben,...there are casualties all over the place." He slammed down the last in his mug, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Takes a lot out of you, ya know." He glanced toward the now-empty bottle in front of him, sighing. "You got any more of that, Bobby?"
"Fresh out."
The older Winchester grunted, finding his own feet. "Then I'm...goin' out to get more. Any special requests?"
"Bourbon." The former marine tipped his glass as Dean nodded.
Tony stood, grabbing his jacket and sliding his cell phone in his pocket. "I'll go with ya. Could use the air."
The two older men shared a heavy moment of silence.
Gibbs cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Your boy alright?"
"Neither of 'em oughta be here, really. If it wasn't for Cas out there...well, neither of them would be here. None of us would." He shifted in his seat.
"Can't even begin to imagine what the lot of you have gone through."
Bobby laughed, a sad, hollow sound that dropped heavily from his lips. Slowly, he shook his head, looking down at his empty glass with a bit of resentment. "Gibbs, I don't know you from Adam's house cat, at least not yet, but I know you'll believe me when I tell ya...death ain't the end." He shook his head. "Before this thing's all over, I think ya'll will know that too."
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A small, sad smile touched Sam's lips and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, reluctantly sitting up from Ziva's lap. He cleared his throat, resting back against the railing that surrounded the small deck. She offered him her own small smile, wiping at her own face. He blinked, immediately reaching over to brush her tears away.
"I'm sorry," he apologized brokenly, "I didn't mean to make you cry."
She caught his hands in her own and lowered them slowly to her lap, her eyes locking with his in a bold confrontation. "I am not normally one to show how I feel," she confessed. "That was not my upbringing. It was not until I became part of the team here at NCIS that I learned that it was okay to feel things and to show them. It has taken a very long time for me to accept that grieving is normal." She squeezed his hands. "How could I not grieve for the life you have lost and the one that you have lived in its place? How could I not grieve for the circumstances that have brought you into my life? It is a very hard, unfair life you have lived, Sam Winchester. The amount you have lost and sacrificed is unimaginable to me."
He swallowed awkwardly around the lump in his throat.
"You need something...someone...positive in your life...something to balance out the pain," she pressed on. "If you will let me, I would like to be that something."
Eyes wide, he could only managed a shocked nod before folding her into strong arms, holding to her as if she was his only lifeline. He was dumbfounded, completely knocked off his feet, by this woman. Sudden laughter bubbled from his lips, and for the first time he could remember, he felt the beginnings of happiness stirring inside him. He sighed, a genuine smile settling on his lips.
"Thank you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're amazing."
She settled against him, breathing in his scent, for the first time feeling her own bit of peace. While it would take a long while for her to work through the issues she had with Sam's past and what he'd been through, she'd determined that he'd be worth it. He wasn't the normal project. She breathed her own sigh, pushing the thoughts from her mind, losing herself in the moment. In that space of time, everything was okay. Everything would be okay.
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:Tune in for the next installment, coming soon. Dean and Tony have left the house for the bottle shop. Find out what happens to cause Tony to return to the house alone and bloody.:
tbc...